


Everything

by YellowMustard



Series: Of Soup And Stuff And Stars [4]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys In Love, Fluff and Smut, I feel like I should apologise for this, M/M, Oral Sex, PWP, Sex, Smut, Top Connor, Tree Bros, i'm filth, sorry ao3, there's something for everyone!, this is filth, we switchin it up, yeah i wrote more porn ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 14:34:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowMustard/pseuds/YellowMustard
Summary: “You, uh. You said, a little while ago. The first time. That you wanted…all the stuff. With me. That you wanted…everything. Just wondering if that offer, um…still stands?”(OR: Part 2 of "All The Stuff". More sex. Lots of it. I'm sorry.)





	Everything

**Author's Note:**

> hey everyone i hate myself, here's some porn and I blame Mike Faist for the fact that i wrote this absolute filth.
> 
> (i kind of hope it's still cute though and i'm lowkey terrified to post this one but here we are)
> 
> Kind of intended as a follow up to "All The Stuff" but it still works without it, I think.
> 
> Love you all <3 
> 
> TW: SEX. SEX SEX SEX. Not underage because I just. don't like to write that shit. But SEX.
> 
> https://theyellowestmustard.tumblr.com/

* * *

“This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid, Connor.”

“It’s  _ not _ , fuck you! Just lemme think for a sec.”

Admittedly, Evan’s kind of right. This is a little stupid.

Connor picks through the bowl of candy at his side, then offers it to Evan. Not for the first time that evening, Evan wrinkles his nose in distaste, which is objectively adorable, and makes Connor laugh. Connor’s mixed M&M’s and Skittles all together into one bowl, and Evan’s been actively voicing his disapproval about it all night.

“Well?” says Evan, and Connor replies with a “Shut up, I’m still thinking.”

Evan scoffs at him.

Connor sort of hates to admit when Evan’s right. But he is, this time. 

It  _ is  _ impossible to play Never Have I Ever when they both already know everything there is to know about each other.

“Why is it so important we play this game, anyway?” Evan asks, “I mean, isn’t it like...a drinking game? We’re not even drinking.”

"It's also a quintessential slumber party game," insists Connor, rather sulkily. “Besides, we  _ could _ be drinking. There’s the wine.” He nods in the direction of his duffel bag, propped up in Evan’s doorway, in which there are two bottles of Cynthia’s fancy-ass wine that Connor had pilfered before coming over. Evan just shakes his head, rolls his eyes.

Connor's not really sure why this is so important to him. The whole slumber party thing.

He just...he wants Evan to have everything. Not just material things, but experiences, too. He wants Evan to feels like his life is full, like he’s done everything he wants to do. 

And Connor wants to be there for all of it, for everything, everything, everything. 

So, when Evan had mentioned to Connor that throughout both middle school and high school, he’d never been to a sleepover, and added with an awkward little laugh that the ship has probably sailed on that now that they’ve graduated, Connor just...had to do something about it.

He’d been planning on spending the night at Evan’s that weekend anyway. Connor’s there every time Heidi works the late shift. He just hates the idea of Evan spending the night alone, in a dark, quiet house with only his asshole brain for company. It’s routine now, for Connor to be there; spooning Evan as he drifts off, trailing languid kisses over Evan’s neck as he wakes up, pressing his face into Evan’s hair in the cool light of early mornings. 

Routine, but not boring. 

Connor doesn’t think Evan could  _ ever  _ be boring.

But tonight he’s made some changes to their usual routine by showing up to Evan’s house with an overstuffed duffel bag over one shoulder, jammed full of candy and sachets of microwave popcorn and crappy movies and even a tub of Zoe’s expensive, weird-smelling face mask shit. Because Evan deserves to attend a  _ proper  _ sleepover. An authentic slumber party experience.

In retrospect, Connor supposes he  _ could  _ have made this an authentic slumber party experience if he’d invited Zoe and Jared and Alana, but…

Then he’d miss out on... _ other  _ things. Things that were kind of Connor’s favorite part. So.

Evan shoves at Connor’s arm a little, laughing, and effectively breaking him out of his reverie. 

“There’s got to be other quintessential slumber party games,” he says, grinning. “What else you got?”

Connor can’t suppress a matching grin of his own.

“Truth or dare?” he says, and Evan laughs again. He digs through the M&M/Skittle bowl and picks out a single one, holding it up to the light so he can be sure of what he’s about to eat. 

“Alright, truth,” he says begrudgingly. 

Connor rolls his eyes.

“Lame.”

“You’re gonna dare me to do something stupid!”

“I’m not!” Connor protests. “Swear to god.”

Evan narrows his eyes at Connor distrustfully.

“Alright, dare.”

Connor twirls a lock of hair around his finger girlishly, and bats his eyelashes in what he knows is a revoltingly sexist impression of a preteen girl.

“OK,” he says, in a gossipy falsetto that makes Evan snicker. “I dare you to kiss your  _ crush _ . For like, one whole minute.”

Evan’s still grinning widely, but there’s a sudden sparkle in his eyes, and when he speaks his voice wavers a little. 

“Is that like…a restriction, or a guideline? Can I go for longer than one minute?”

“Depends. How long were you thinking?”

“As long as he’ll let me,” Evan breathes, and he crawls towards Connor, head tilted invitingly, lips parted and cheeks pink.

And then they're kissing. 

And this... _ this  _ is the reason he didn’t invite Zoe and Jared and Alana to Evan’s Authentic Sleepover Experience.

It’s nothing new, but for Connor, it still somehow  _ feels _ new, every time. He feels the odd kinetic buzzing of his lips every time Evan pulls away, hears his own breathy sigh as Evan leans back in, and he’s running his tongue over the seam of Evan’s lips until he opens them, and. 

It’s almost all a bit overwhelming.

Connor shifts closer so Evan no longer has to be on his hands and knees (even though it makes an  _ extremely _ pretty picture), and his hands wander up Evan’s back, gripping the back of his neck as his lips continue to dip and slide. 

Maybe Connor ought to be embarrassed that he’s already half-hard, and all they’ve done is kiss a little. But then he hears Evan whimper, feels the vibration of the sound against his parted lips, and he decides he doesn’t give a shit. 

Connor gives the hem of Evan’s shirt a slight tug, asking for permission to remove it, and Evan leans forward to allow Connor to pull it over his head. He makes quick work of his own shirt, too, then his pajama bottoms, before grabbing both of Evan’s hands and kind of hauling both of them onto Evan’s bed. He’s straddling Evan’s hips, his favorite spot in the whole world, still kissing him fiercely with teeth scraping at his bottom lip, and Evan’s fingertips are dragging a scorching trail down Connor’s sides, along his back and belly and chest and thighs. 

Connor rises up onto his knees, leaving a gap between the two of them, so Evan can shimmy out of his sweatpants. He takes his underwear off, too, just swipes the whole lot off with no reservations whatsoever, because he’s  _ that _ eager which is just. Hot. 

Connor quickly shucks off his own underwear, then leans in to kiss Evan’s mouth and jaw and neck and chest until Evan’s squirming beneath him, panting Connor’s name. He drags his mouth down Evan’s torso until he’s face-to-face with Evan’s stomach, and presses his thumbs into the dips of his hip bones, smirking as Evan jolts and gasps. 

He forgets how sensitive Evan’s hips are. 

He presses a kiss to each one, and as he moves from Evan’s left hip to his right, he lets his mouth skirt over the head of Evan’s erection, just the faintest brush of lips. Evan  _ whines _ , and Connor looks up at him with a coy smile.

“Everything OK up there?” Connor asks, and yeah, he’s kind of taunting Evan a little, but he can’t help it, not when Evan responds like  _ that _ , with his eyes all unfocused and his thighs quivering and the trace of a cry in the back of his mouth.

“Nope,” Evan replies, his voice sounding strangled, like he’s trying to force the sound through a clenched-shut throat, and Connor snickers. 

“You want me to stop?” Connor asks, and he’s still goading him, but he’s also kind of actually checking in. Because he’s probably about 99% sure that Evan’s enjoying himself, that Evan’s  _ really fucking enjoying himself _ , but Connor doesn’t think he could live with himself if that “nope” turns out to be an actual, genuine “no” that goes ignored just because Connor’s horny.

“I absolutely fucking do  _ not _ want that Connor, oh my god  _ please, _ ” Evan whimpers. His hands keep shifting, like he’s not sure what to do with them, moving from the covers to Connor’s shoulders to Connor’s hair, to flopping limply at his sides. Connor reaches up and gives one of them a little squeeze, and Evan squeezes back.

“Awesome,” says Connor. “Same.”

And with that, Connor’s hooking one of Evan’s legs over his shoulder and licking his way along Evan’s length before taking him completely into his mouth.

Evan lets out a broken moan at the contact, his hands fisting into the sheets. Connor bobs his head, swirls his tongue, trying to remember what Evan had really enjoyed the only other time they’d done this, and Evan’s knuckles begin turning white. As Connor continues, focusing absolutely all of his attention on making Evan feel good, he notices one of Evan’s hands relinquish their hold on the sheets and reach uncertainly for Connor’s head, fingers shaking. At the last second, he yanks his hand back, pulling it in to his side and curling it back into a tight fist.

Connor almost lets out an incredulous bark of laughter. Or he would, if he didn’t have Evan’s dick in his mouth. Because like.

Evan wants to pull his hair.

Which is. Actually pretty fucking hot. The idea of Evan tugging on his hair with his dick down Connor’s throat is. Um. It’s something. It’s something Connor hadn’t even  _ considered _ he might be into, but now he kind of…can’t  _ stop _ thinking about it, honestly.

But of course Evan’s too timid to actually follow through with it. It’s  _ Evan. _

Connor decides to take matters into his own hands. He drags his mouth away from Evan, then grabs one of his clenched fists. He doesn’t speak, just threads his fingers through Evan’s to uncoil them, then guides the hand to nestle in his hair. He manipulates Evan’s fingers to fist tightly there, giving him a meaningful look. Evan’s cheeks are bright red and his eyes are dark and he’s looking at Connor with an awed expression.

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” Evan mutters.

“You won’t,” replies Connor, simply, confidently, like he trusts Evan fully and completely, because he  _ does _ .

He returns to lavishing attention on Evan’s dick, and it’s even hotter now with Evan’s hand tangling in his hair, tugging gently, drawing pathetic little moans from Connor’s chest. Each throaty gurgle Connor makes seems to incite Evan into pulling more roughly, and by the time Evan’s become brave enough to grab onto Connor’s hair with  _ both  _ hands Connor’s shaking and whimpering and achingly hard and he can barely fucking stand it. Evan’s close too, Connor can tell; his breathing is labored and the leg over Connor’s shoulder has been spasming helplessly for the past thirty seconds.

Connor reaches for the hands in his hair, resting his own fingers on top of them gently, and Evan immediately lets go, allowing Connor to pull back, failing to mask a slight whine of frustration.

“Sorry,” Connor says, even though he’s not sorry at all. “But I kind of wanted to do more than…just this, tonight?”

Evan kind of shakes his head a little, not in disagreement; almost as though he’s trying to force his brain to refocus. It’s fucking cute.

“That’s fair,” Evan manages, and he’s grinning and still breathless and hard and he’s just. Gorgeous. He’s _gorgeous._ “Did you have something…in particular in mind?”

“Making some prank calls. Or another round of Never Have I Ever,” Connor replies impishly, laughing when Evan whacks him on the shoulder, huffing, “You’re such an idiot, oh my god.”

Connor supposes now’s as good a time as ever to ask.

He’s suddenly kind of nervous.

“You, uh. You said, a little while ago. The first time. That you wanted…all the stuff. With me. That you wanted… _ everything _ . Just wondering if that offer, um…still stands?”

Evan’s eyes widen, which Connor would probably find cute if he wasn’t freaking out a little. He licks his lips, which are swollen from all the kissing, and opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again, looking uncertain, apprehensive. 

He kind of reminds Connor of a birthday cake with all the candles blown out - smoke drifting in a dark, silent room as he waits for someone to cut him open.

Connor scrambles to try and ease the tension.

“Never mind,” Connor says. “It’s fine, we can just. I mean, we can do whatever you want, I guess I just wanted to, uh. Put that out there. I just--”

“Yes,” Evan breathes.

And...oh. OK. Fuck.

“Yes?” Connor echoes vaguely, because. OK.

“Yes,” Evan says again, and there’s still a hint of anxiety in his eyes, because Evan always feels nervous when trying something new, but he’s also looking at Connor with such trust and love and certainty that Connor feels his heart flutter a little.

Connor dips his head to hide his sudden blush and brushes a few gentle kisses to Evan’s thighs, watching the goosebumps form against his mouth. “You’ve got...everything we need?” Connor asks, voice hoarse as he speaks the words into Evan’s skin, and Evan twists his upper body, reaching for the drawer in his nightstand and fumbling to retrieve lube and a condom. 

When he hands them both over, Connor doesn’t miss the way his hands are shaking, just a little.

“Hey,” he says, gently. “Same rules as always, yeah? If I’m hurting you, you fucking tell me. If something just...doesn’t feel good, you fucking tell me. You wanna stop for  _ any _ reason, you fucking tell me, OK?”

Evan nods, a quiet, breathy laugh escaping him.

“Yeah...I know. Sorry. I really  _ do _ want to do this, I swear. Just...nervous.”

Connor gets it, completely gets it. But he’s not entirely sure what to say to calm Evan’s nerves, so he presses a kiss to the inside of his knee and mumbles, “I’m mad fucking in love with you, you know that, right?” 

It seems to do the trick, because Evan grins down at him, strokes his fingers through Connor’s hair.

“I’m so fucking in love with you it’s stupid,” Evan replies, and then they’re both laughing quietly, touching gently, like handling a moment in time that’s delicate and frail.

Connor finally uncaps the lube and squeezes probably-too-much onto his fingers, and then he’s touching Evan, slow. Evan grabs a hold of Connor’s free hand and lets out a long, steady breath, eyes closed, like he’s trying to will himself to relax. Connor moves his fingers in gentle, exploratory circles, and Evan sighs, and Connor  _ slowlyslowlyslowly  _ slides his finger in. 

Evan lets out another breath, and Connor pauses. 

“OK?” he whispers.

Evan furrows his brow.

“...I’m not sure,” he admits quietly.

“OK,” says Connor. “OK. I’m gonna stop.”

“No…” Evan mutters. “No, you...maybe you could...keep going until I figure it out.”

And Connor’s not entirely sure about that, but he keeps going, as carefully and as gently as he can, watching Evan’s face to make sure he’s not uncomfortable and just doesn’t want to say anything. 

And because he’s looking at Evan’s face, he sees the exact moment that his brow relaxes and his lips part and the corner of his mouth twitches, snagging on the tiniest of smiles.

“OK?” Connor asks again, and this time Evan just sighs out this tremulous little “yeah,” sounding...sort of blissed out, actually.

Connor adds a second finger, and continues. He’s kind of determined to find Evan’s prostate, and he’s trying hard to remember how Evan had found his the first time (by accident, no less), but his brain feels cloudy, like it’s zeroing in on the sound of Evan’s labored breathing and absolutely nothing else. 

It turns out, though, that Evan does the hard work for him. 

Because as Connor touches him, Evan sort of arches his back, and Connor’s fairly sure that he hadn’t meant for this to happen, but the angle, the sudden curve of Evan’s spine, means that suddenly Connor’s pressing against a slightly different spot, and…

Evan gasps, his eyes flying wide open before locking onto Connor’s, wild and dark and desperate. His bottom lip is trembling, and he sucks it into his mouth and bites down on it, letting out a wobbly, high-pitched little noise at the same time. 

Connor’s brain records that sound, and locks it away with all his best ever memories.

He keeps touching Evan, focusing on that spot, adding a third finger and savoring the choked little cries of his own name. And holy  _ shit _ , Connor thinks maybe he could just...do this forever. He totally understands why Evan enjoys doing this to  _ him _ so much. It’s almost better than being on the receiving end. 

_ Almost. _

Connor carefully removes his fingers, smirking and poking Evan in the hip at his little grunt of disappointment, then flops down beside him as he rolls the condom onto himself. 

Evan tilts his head towards Connor in confusion, eyeing his new position, flat on his back, and Connor feels a blush rise to his cheeks because...

Fuck. He hasn’t even run this by Evan yet. Shit.

“So,” Connor says, and he’s feeling kind of shy all of a sudden. “How would you feel about, um. Being on top?”

Evan flushes, casts his eyes down the length of Connor’s body.

When he meets Connor’s eyes again, he’s wearing a teasing grin.  


“So what, even when I’m not topping I still have to top?”  


“I like...being underneath you, shut up,” Connor mutters, and Evan snickers. 

He hooks a leg over Connor, straddling him, the laughter in his eyes dying away as he carefully lines himself up. Connor squeezes his thigh in reassurance, staring up at him, all smooth, freckle-dusted skin and pink cheeks and long eyelashes and fucking  _ hell _ Connor would do absolutely anything for this boy.

Evan takes a deep breath, then lets it out on a slow, tremulous exhale, punctuated with little whimpers, as he sinks down onto Connor's dick. 

And oh my god  _ fuck fuck fuck _ he feels fucking incredible and fuck, Connor thinks maybe he's melting, he has to be physically melting, right?

Unthinking, completely lost in mind-numbing pleasure, Connor jerks his hips up, ever so slightly, and Evan pulls a face and mutters "ow," and  _ shit _ Connor needs to pay attention to what he's fucking doing.

"Sorry," he whispers, reaching out to grasp Evan's hips with both hands, though he's not sure if he's trying to ground Evan or himself. "Holy  _ shit _ , though, oh my fucking  _ god. _ "

Evan closes his eyes, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He swallows roughly, and a quiet noise burbles vaguely in the back of his throat. 

Connor can't tell if it's a good noise or not.

"You doing OK?" Connor asks, genuinely shocked that he's actually able to form words.

"Yeah...I just, um. Need a minute."

"Take your time," Connor rasps.

Evan kind of folds himself in half at the waist, doubling over to brush his lips against Connor’s delicately, and Connor tilts his head up and simply lets himself be kissed, lets this gorgeous boy speak words of love against his mouth, so light he barely feels it. He drops forward even more, burying his face against Connor’s neck and kissing him there, sliding lips up towards Connor’s earlobe and applying a little suction, and Connor’s undone. 

He’s gripping Evan’s hips with bruising force, nails digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to stay still, but a shudder runs through him anyway, reflexive and completely beyond his control.

“Evan…Evan,  _ fuck.” _

The lips against his neck quirk into a smile.

“I’m getting to that, just gimme a minute,” Evan says, his voice sort of weak and flimsy despite his teasing tone.

Connor lets out a light breath of laughter, but he’s barely understood what Evan’s even said, responding more to the light humor in his voice rather than the actual words. He wants to touch Evan, wants to skim his fingers up his spine and stroke the downy softness of his thighs and wrap his hand around his dick, fuck, he wants to touch him  _ everywhere _ , but he doesn’t trust himself not to just. Completely lose his fucking mind if he lets go of Evan’s hips.

Evan’s still sort of slumped against Connor’s chest, curling around him almost possessively, when he gives a cautious, experimental little roll of his hips.

It’s not enough and somehow altogether too much, far, far too much.

“ _ Fuck, Ev,”  _ Connor manages, his voice an unsteady rasp of need. Evan repeats the motion, with a little more confidence this time, and when Connor’s hips buck up a second time, it’s completely involuntary, but this time Evan doesn’t say “ow”, he  _ moans _ . 

Connor bucks up against Evan again, then again, and Evan shifts, sitting upright as he begins tentatively rolling his hips, trying to move in time with Connor’s thrusts. Connor grips Evan’s thighs to steady him as they move together, an odd, guttural sound reverberating in his chest. And Evan kind of..._loses himself_, swirling his hips and grinding hard against Connor and  _ fuck _ he’s so responsive, gasping and whimpering and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

But Connor’s determined to give him more.

It takes a couple of tries, a couple of readjustments of the angle they’re both at, but then Connor jerks up and Evan lets out a warm cry of pleasure, head tipping backwards, eyes sliding shut.

"Connor, oh my god,  _ there _ ," he moans.

"Yeah?" Connor gasps, and he wants to say more, but his brain is flatlining. 

Connor does his best to aim for that exact spot as he cants his hips up with increasing desperation, squeezing Evan’s ass with both hands as unrestrained groans spill out of him, and he’s done even  _ trying _ to hold them back. He feels like he’s unraveling, like the stitches holding him together are being wrenched apart, and when he closes his eyes he sees stars, swirling and flickering in the dark. He feels like he’s been completely stripped of the ability to think, only able to comprehend the frantic drumming of his heart and the pulsing heat in his abdomen.

But fuck, the reactions he’s getting from Evan are somehow even better than  _ any  _ of that.

He’s bracing himself against Connor’s chest with both palms, eyelids fluttering as he moans and trembles, hips still rolling in fluid figure-eights. Every now and then he’ll grind down right as Connor thrusts up, the motion tearing a keening cry from Evan’s throat. A rosy glow sweeps all the way down to his chest, and it just might be Connor’s new favorite color.

“Look at me,” Connor chokes out, the words so darkened with want he barely recognizes them as his own, and Evan does, eyes snapping open and fixing on Connor immediately, like it’d be a crime for him to look anywhere else.

“ _ Fuck _ , Connor, oh my god _ , pleasepleaseplease _ ,” he whimpers, hips suddenly rocking in urgent staccato as he reaches down to stroke himself.

“Evan, I need…oh my fucking  _ god _ , I need—” But Connor’s not even  _ sure  _ what he needs, has no idea what he’s trying to ask for other than  _ more. _

_ _

“Connor, I’m—I’m gonna—"

And that’s it, for Connor; he squeezes his eyes shut as his rhythm stutters, fingers digging hard into Evan’s thighs, Evan’s name escaping him in a series of shaky, broken sobs. He feels something warm and wet against his stomach, hears a cry of his own name, and immediately regrets he hadn’t kept his eyes open, because fuck. He missed it.

Next time. He’ll watch next time.

Evan pulls away slowly, wincing a little, and Connor makes a vague sound of empathy. He’s quick to ditch the condom, to wipe up the mess on his stomach with a fistful of tissues, because all he wants to do right now is cuddle the everloving fuck out of Evan Hansen. 

Evan seems to have the same idea, because he’s pressed against Connor’s side almost immediately, head against his shoulder and fingers intertwined with his.  


It’s quiet for a while. Connor presses a few kisses into Evan’s hair, runs his thumb over the back of Evan’s hand as he slowly comes back to himself. Evan’s breathing is soft, relaxed, and Connor feels Evan’s grin forming against his skin rather than seeing it.

“So...was that part of the quintessential slumber party experience, or…?”

And Connor’s laughing then, raucous and surprised at the sudden mischief in Evan’s voice.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Right between the pizza and the horror movies.”

“Right, yeah, that makes sense,” says Evan, and he’s all owlish eyes and faux-innocence, and Connor can’t stop smiling. “I mean, I wouldn’t  _ know _ , so...I’m trusting you to make sure my first and only sleepover is as authentic as possible.”

“I mean, honestly, your average sleepover would have way more sex. Way more. Multiple orgasms, multiple positions...I mean, if you  _ really  _ want this sleepover to be  _ authentic…” _

Evan snorts. He looks up at Connor, still looking kind of dazed, and he rolls his eyes, and grins big and beautiful and Connor just fucking loves him so so much.

“You’re ridiculous...” Evan says, then tucks his head back against Connor’s shoulder.

“...but maybe next time.” 


End file.
